Looking back, Athreya was a little surprised at how much had happened in one day. The first twenty-four to forty-eight hours after a murder were always critical, but yesterday had been highly productive by any standard. It felt as if he had discovered the murder a long time ago, not just twenty-fours before. Today too would be crucial. He was hoping that new evidence would emerge, and that his enquiries would bear fruit.
Fifteen minutes into his jog, his phone rang. It was Rajan calling from Coonoor. He had made enquiries of the kind Athreya had requested, and was calling to share his findings.
‘By all accounts, Ganesh Raj seems to be a harmless fellow,’ he said. ‘He is on the denser side, but people seem to like him. An ex-army man who has seen a lot of action on the line of duty. Twice, he was wounded badly, but went back to the front line each time. He has a reputation for being courageous and dependable in action. Known as a doer rather than a thinker. A genuine guy, whom his colleagues recall with fondness.
‘But being a bit of a dullard, he was overlooked for promotion several times. Lacked the intelligence and tact to rise very high, it seems. But when it comes to integrity and honesty, he is top-notch. Not the slightest blemish on that account in his entire career. A very forthright person, he is, if sometimes tactless. Gets into altercations sometimes for calling a spade a spade.
‘Now, his wife seems to be a different sort. A bit of a flirt who is not averse to having a quick fling when her husband is not looking. She is seventeen years his junior, and seems bored out of her skull in this middle-of-nowhere valley that Ganesh picked as his post-retirement home. Poor girl, it’s not been a great marriage for her.
‘I’m told that she spends a lot of time at Greybrooke Manor, more out of nothing else to do, I suppose. Bhaskar humours her and tolerates her feigned interest in his library. But she is also known to make eyes at Manu, who probably ignores her.’
‘That’s useful, Rajan. It fits in well with what I have observed. What about Abbas?’
‘He’s an interesting bloke. There seems to be little doubt that he is a crook of some sort. But what sort is the question. The police have been keeping an eye on him, but have not been able to lay their hands on anything to corner him. His resort loses money hand over fist, but he still runs it. Keeps a staff of about fifteen people, despite having very few visitors. Always deals in cash, it appears, and is never short of it. Something smells fishy there, for sure.’
‘Any talk of drugs?’ Athreya asked, and went on to narrate what he had overheard.
‘Bhaskar may have something there,’ Rajan said slowly. ‘They don’t say anything openly, but what you say seems consistent with the local police’s reactions when asked about Abbas. The resort may well be a cover for shady activities.’
‘Anything on Murthy and the folks here at Greybrooke Manor?’
‘Nothing much other than Murthy and Richie being unsavoury characters. The locals talk highly of Manu and Bhaskar’s nieces. Bit of sympathy for Michelle due to her rotten husband. Huge respect for Bhaskar. Huge! And for Sebastian too, but Bhaskar is placed on a pedestal.’
‘And the staff at the mansion?’
‘Only positive feelings for them. The cook is reputed to have a sharp tongue but a heart of gold. Runs the place like an overbearing matron, it seems. What with having young women under her wing, along with some young men? Bit of a disciplinarian.’
‘The priest? Father Tobias?’
‘Harmless, abstracted bloke. Poor as a church mouse, I’m told. His family has been around in the Western Ghats for a couple of generations. Has a brother in Madikeri.’
‘And finally the victim? Phillip?’
‘You’ll be surprised at how little the locals know about him. His presence doesn’t seem to have registered around here. In fact, some of those I spoke to asked “who is Phillip?” when I brought him up. Rarely comes to town, I believe.’
Hardly had Athreya thanked Rajan and hung up when his phone rang again. It was the fingerprinting man. Athreya sat down on a bench at Sunset Deck and took the call. This was going to be important.
‘Thought I’d give you whatever information I have at this point,’ he said. ‘There are several prints on the candlesticks on the altar, but they are not from the night of the murder. The prints of Sebastian, Dora and Murugan are all over them, but dust has settled on top of them in most cases. The same is the case with the altar.
‘But there is a funny thing about the altar. Judging by how dust has been disturbed or rubbed off, I think it has been handled extensively. However, there are no fresh prints.’
‘Gloves?’ Athreya asked.
‘Gloves,’ the fingerprinting man concurred. ‘And did you know that the altar top is not made of a single piece of stone? It is made of three separate slabs that fit neatly into each other.’
‘But isn’t that how it always is? Marble, granite and other stones come in slabs of fixed dimensions. They are cut and glued together during installation. That’s the case with all countertops–in kitchens, offices or altars.’
‘That’s right, but that’s not what I am saying. The three pieces here are not glued together. They just fit precisely next to each other.’
‘Why would they do that?’
‘I’m not sure. But there is something else too. The wheelchair.’
‘Go on.’
‘Parts of the wheelchair have been rubbed down after it was wheeled into the corner. There are two handles at the rear of the wheelchair,
